Sweet Dreams

Pitter patter…

Pitter patter…

It is the middle of the night.

Sungjong climbs onto your side of the bed, his light figure barely enough to leave temporary dents on the furniture, making sure not to wake you up. Slipping himself into the blanket in a symmetrical position, head facing yours, legs slightly bent around the knees, he dictates when your breathing rises, and falls. Unknown to you, he knows he can feel at ease watching his sleeping beauty unstressed and at rest. He brushes your fringe out of your eyes, his fingertips like cold gems alighting on your forehead.

You know he is there, but you keep your eyes closed. You don’t want to startle him, or make him feel guilty for having woken you up. Once he’s determined on taking blame for something, you know how stubborn he can be.

Then, outside, it starts to rain harder, and suddenly you can hear the million of raindrops, multiplying as they hit the ground and form puddles as harmless as the stars in the night sky. First, they are like tiny steps making music on your concrete balcony; then, the natural lullaby gathers speed, until lightning is cracking across the heavens, just like the weather forecast has reported.

From that moment, you feel him rolling around every so often in the covers. You figure it’s because Sungjong doesn’t like rain, or lightning, or thunder—especially not thunder. He doesn’t like loud things. It’s not like him at all.

He whimpers, cringes, hands to his ears and torso up against you, making uneven patterns with his limbs in the fabric by your side upon realising he has forgotten to bring his teddy bear into your bedroom with him. The thunder continues to steal away the silence, and he fumbles around some more, desperate to find something to cling onto, but he is too lazy to remove himself from the protection of the covers he’s sharing with you to retrieve his most prized possession…

That is when you notice him falling short of his distress.

In the end, you can never blame him for his little night adventures into your bed.

Sungjong may not be able to have his teddy bear, but you have got to be close enough. Your unmoving eyelashes, natural and free from chemical blemish, remind him of the angelic button eyes you have hidden under your lids, after all, while your hair is messy, twirling like raging waterfalls down your bare shoulders, yet almost fluffy looking, cute only to his preference. He feels most fitted in his place in the world, and safer than he will ever be, next to you, and suddenly all the noises of the thunder around him are reduced to none. The only melody to his ears in that moment is the beating of his heartbeat, softened and likened to your gentle one in the timeless darkness.

And so of course, he pulls you in closer, cuddling you like you are his favourite teddy bear. It tickles, but you try not to laugh. You’ve been doing so well already—and good thing it is dim because otherwise he would have probably already noticed the blush on your cheeks. The last thing you need is something that will give your conscious state away.

You wait, counting sheep and raindrops in your wake…

When finally he drifts off to sleep, you open your eyes to find that the rain has subsided. Faced by his beautiful, silent features, against the net of a comforting black—still far from the break of dawn and its ambient rays scattering through your bedroom window—you are relieved. His innocent demeanour, feathery breaths, everything. It is as though something as little as a breeze can shatter him. Looking at him now makes you realise how lucky you are to be able to wish you can keep him forever and know that the wish will come true without complication. Nothing has ever made you feel so at peace as it has now.

You snuggle in closer, allowing him to sleep more comfortably, while also hoping to prolong the time you get to spend with him before a new day begins. But more than that, it reduces the chances of a cold air sweeping in through the blankets, which you suppose he hated as well because you catch him shrivelling his nose in the bitter annoyance sometimes.

And before you close your eyes again and actually try to get some sleep for yourself this time, you lean in gently and plant a fleeting kiss on his cheek. You see the corners of his lips curling upwards—immediately you are touched by the thought of him already dreaming blissfully. Making yourself comfortable, you smile too, knowing that in his embrace so will you.

"Goodnight," you whisper.

Now you just can't wait to wake up to his face in the morning.

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a/n: I'll lengthen and edit this after I complete my homework... ;w; OMG INFINITE'S COMEBACK TONIGHT AKDJLASJAKSAJSHKJ